Li Estate — Dining Hall
RING.
The sound cut through the hall like a blade.
Sharp.
Jarring.
Out of place in a room where silence itself felt disciplined.
Every head turned toward the source.
Guowei froze halfway through lifting his teacup.
His phone vibrated on the table—screen lighting up with an internal Li Group alert.
He frowned and tapped the screen.
The color drained from his face.
Before a single word left his lips—
RING.
A second phone.
This time from Third Branch.
Guotao checked his tablet. His brows knit sharply.
RING. RING.
Fourth Branch.
Then First Branch again.
A ripple of unease spread across the table—not panic, not confusion, but something dangerous:
a break in control.
Li Zhonghai's gaze shifted, sharp enough to silence a room.
"Turn off your devices," he said, voice calm but cold. "This meeting is not to be interrupted."
They obeyed.
Or tried to.
Because—
VMMMM.
A vibrating alert hummed through the table.
Yichen pulled out his phone with stiff fingers.
A second vibration.
A third.
All along the table, screens blinked awake, notifications cascading one after another in neat, merciless rows.
It wasn't chaos yet.
But it was the unmistakable beginning of it.
The branches exchanged glances—subtle, strained.
Every alert came from internal systems.
Every one required immediate attention.
Li Feng sat still, hands folded loosely on the table.
Expression calm.
Breathing steady.
Watching.
Like a man observing the first drop of rain before a storm he already predicted.
The patriarch's eyes narrowed.
He sensed it too.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
And it had begun the moment Li Feng spoke.
---
The hall remained silent for three long, heavy seconds.
Screens glowed.
Notifications stacked.
Nobody moved—until Guowei's thumb hesitated over his phone and finally tapped one alert open and skimmed the notification.
The muscles in his jaw clenched.
"Impossible…" he murmured under his breath.
Across from him, Guotao's tablet chimed.
He tapped it once, then twice—his eyes narrowing with each line of the report.
Rui's phone vibrated continuously, the alerts stacking faster than he could swipe them away.
The patriarch's voice cut through the rising tension:
"Report."
One word. Clipped. Sharp.
No one dared pretend anymore.
---
First Branch
Guowei cleared his throat.
"…An anomaly in the supply chain audit logs."
The words sounded harmless.
They weren't.
"Our internal system flagged inconsistencies. Multiple shipments appear duplicated in the database but missing in physical checks."
A subtle tremor appeared in the air around the First Branch table.
Mislogged shipments. Duplicated entries.
Those were classic red flags for external auditors.
If the Ministry of Commerce reviewed the logs now, even by coincidence…
It could trigger a full-scale audit.
And audits were brutal.
"It might be a system glitch," Guowei added quickly.
But his pale face said he didn't believe that.
Because Li Group's systems didn't produce random glitches.
Someone had nudged buried inconsistencies into visibility.
---
Third Branch
Guotao exhaled slowly.
"We have an urgent alert from the Ministry of Health."
Even the patriarch's gaze sharpened.
An MoH alert was not trivial.
"They've reopened an old compliance file. A pharmaceutical partnership we dissolved three years ago."
His grip tightened around the tablet.
"These irregularities should have been archived."
Should have…
Been buried.
Paperwork lost in bureaucratic dust.
Yet here it was, suddenly resurfacing.
Guotao's tone grew colder.
"If reviewed now, it won't lead to penalties… but it will freeze all our medical-device filings."
Which included—
Silent Hands regulatory groundwork.
Third Branch's entire strategy… stalled.
Paralyzed.
---
Fourth Branch
Rui pinched the bridge of his nose, face paling as new notifications swarmed his screen.
"A blogger posted internal screenshots from our spring PR campaign."
The room stilled.
That campaign.
The one Fourth Branch "managed quietly."
The one where:
• an influencer contract collapsed
• negative feedback was buried
• inflated metrics were internally debated
• a junior staff mistakenly leaked a draft report
• and the team simply… covered everything up
The screenshots —
real screenshots — were now going viral.
Not devastating.
Not illegal.
But humiliating.
A PR department being exposed for incompetent PR was reputational poison.
Rui's voice was barely steady.
"It's being framed as proof of our… dishonesty."
Guifen's lips tightened.
"This will require immediate control."
Because if left alone for even one hour, journalists would twist it into:
"Li Group caught faking PR data."
Which could lead to:
• partner distrust
• contract withdrawal
• pending campaigns paused
• sponsorship negotiations frozen
• and public narrative chaos—
Just when the patriarch needed them to steer the Silent Hands storyline.
---
Three branches. Three departments. Three unrelated problems.
All surfacing—
in the same ten minutes.
All tied to old mistakes they thought were forgotten.
All too small to be sabotage… but too precisely timed to be coincidence.
And worst of all:
Every issue was just big enough to demand immediate action, but small enough that they couldn't rage, accuse, or point fingers.
Professionally?
This was a nightmare. A slow-burning corporate ambush.
The kind that drained manpower, fractured attention, and forced leaders to abandon side projects—
like the attempt to forcefully seize Silent Hands.
---
Yichen's eyes darted between alert windows.
Cheng swore quietly under his breath.
Han Rui's practiced smile had completely vanished.
Even Guowei's composure cracked, just slightly.
Only one person—
one—
sat still as stone.
Li Feng.
Hands resting loosely. Breathing calm. Expression unreadable.
Like a man watching dominoes fall in the exact order he already arranged them.
Zhonghai felt the shift.
For the first time since the meeting began, his fingers tightened around his teacup.
He looked at the glowing screens across the table, then at Li Feng…
and a cold, unwelcome realization flickered beneath his eyes:
This wasn't spontaneous.
This was engineered.
And the storm was only beginning.
---
For several seconds, the dining hall remained frozen around the patriarch—
as if the entire room had stopped breathing.
The patriarch extended a hand, palm down.
It was not a gesture of calm.
It was a demand for composure.
"Enough," he said quietly.
The tone was level, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable.
"Maintain order."
The command stabilized the room—
but barely.
Because the problems didn't stop.
The devices fell silent.
But the consequences had already begun.
The phone calls had been the alarm bells before a fire.
---
Hearing the patriarch's words, the Branch Heads Try to Save Face
Guowei slid his phone face-down, trying to mask the tightness around his mouth.
"It's a system error," he said too quickly. "We'll have it sorted by morning."
A lie. Everyone knew it.
Guotao adjusted his glasses, voice more controlled.
"My compliance team can stall the Ministry until end-of-day."
Calm words.
But his foot tapped once beneath the table.
Guifen offered a practiced, PR-trained smile.
"Viral threads burn out in a few hours," she said lightly.
"Nothing significant."
Rui didn't echo her confidence. His eyes remained fixed on his screen, throat tight.
The façade held…
…but only just.
---
A First Branch aide stepped through the side door and bowed.
"Director Guowei. The supply-chain anomaly has escalated.
We've been contacted by a regulatory liaison."
A Third Branch compliance officer followed.
"Branch Head Guotao—
The Ministry has requested a preliminary conference call within the hour."
A Fourth Branch PR staffer arrived last.
"Madam Guifen—
The advertising thread is multiplying across platforms.
Four media outlets have sent inquiry requests."
Not panic.
A controlled flood.
All three branches were being pulled outward— away from this table, away from the confrontation, away from the Second Branch.
And critically—
each crisis was time-sensitive.
Ignoring them meant consequences. Delaying them meant escalation. Handling them meant leaving this room.
The patriarch saw it instantly.
His eyes darkened.
---
For the first time since the meeting began, the power in the room tilted.
Away from the patriarch.
The Li Family was powerful— yes.
But they were also a vast corporate structure.
And a corporate structure lives and dies by timing.
Three simultaneous fires— even small ones— were enough to fracture this dinner.
And Feng's silence…
his unbroken calm…
made it worse.
He wasn't gloating. He wasn't reacting.
He was simply there.
Still.
Unmoved.
---
Zhonghai's jaw shifted—
a tiny, nearly imperceptible movement.
But for a man who rarely showed emotion, it was a crack.
He understood. He was in a quagmire.
If he forced the meeting to continue:
• Regulatory agents would escalate
• PR narratives would spiral
• Compliance issues could trigger fines
• The Li Group's public face would crumble—tonight
If he dismissed the meeting:
• The Second Branch would leave without handing over Silent Hands
• His own authority would be undermined
• He would lose momentum against Li Feng entirely
Neither option was acceptable.
But he had to choose one.
And Feng…
watching him with clear, calm eyes…
knew it.
---
A single line of tension wrapped the hall, taut as wire.
The patriarch opened his mouth—
to reassert control,
to force the meeting forward,
to regain dominance—
when—
another vibration trembled across the table.
Not loud.
But impossibly timed.
It sliced through the last thread of order like a silent blade.
And all eyes turned—
not toward the phone,
but toward Li Feng.
Still.
Composed.
Knowing.
---
The faint vibration that rippled through the table was barely audible—
yet in the tense stillness of the dining hall, it felt deafening.
A few heads twitched toward the sound.
Another alert? Another issue?
No one reached for their phone this time.
No one dared.
Because all of them—every branch head, every heir, every spouse—
was watching two people:
the Patriarch
and
Li Feng.
The patriarch's eyes narrowed a fraction.
The vibration had not come from Feng's seat.
But the timing…
The timing was a blade pressed against the room's throat.
For one long second, no one moved.
Then—
Li Feng rose.
Not abruptly. Not provocatively.
He simply pushed back his chair with a soft, controlled scrape and stood.
Straight-backed. Composed. Unshaken.
The way someone stands when they already know the direction the room is about to turn.
Across the table, several expressions tightened—
Yichen's fingers curled. Rui's jaw flexed. Guowei's pen stilled entirely.
Feng bowed slightly toward the patriarch.
Not submissive.
Respectful.
Measured.
"Patriarch."
His voice was calm—
so steady it felt like a ripple against the tension-laced air.
"It seems," he said,
"that the Li Group requires your guidance right now."
A subtle shift descended across the table.
Several younger heirs inhaled sharply. Two elders stiffened. Someone's chopsticks clinked against porcelain.
It was the perfect sentence.
Respectful enough to be airtight.
Truthful enough to be undeniable.
Sharp enough to land exactly where it needed to.
He continued, tone almost apologetic:
"The issues arising tonight appear… significant.
And time-sensitive."
A pause.
"The Second Branch should not take up any more of the family's attention."
Subtle.
Not confrontational.
But the implication was devastating:
Your house is burning.
And you're trying to argue with us.
The patriarch's gaze sharpened, cold and dissecting.
But Feng didn't waver.
"Our presence here," Feng said softly,
"is only delaying what needs your immediate focus."
Guotao's hand twitched toward his phone.
Guowei's eyes flicked to his aide at the side door.
Guifen swallowed once—quiet, controlled.
Feng finished:
"We will take our leave, so the family can handle what truly requires attention."
Not a threat.
Not a plea.
A permission.
A pressure release valve.
A way for the patriarch to retreat—
without losing face.
Even Zhonghai felt the trap.
Because if he tried to stop Feng now—
he was admitting that the Li Group's internal issues
were less important than forcing down the Second Branch.
And that was something he could not allow anyone to witness.
Not the branches.
Not the juniors.
And certainly not Li Feng.
Silence stretched—thin, tight, heavy.
Then—
a sudden rush of footsteps.
One of the patriarch's senior aides entered through the side corridor, bowing quickly.
"Patriarch," he said, breath controlled but urgency unmistakable,
"We require your presence in the West Wing.
The situation with the Ministry has escalated.
They are requesting immediate authorization."
A heartbeat of frozen time.
Two seconds.
Three.
Zhonghai's jaw tensed.
A choice.
Force the meeting forward and watch the Li Group take damage…
or acknowledge Feng's words and deal with the fires.
He looked at Feng.
At Guohua.
At Xue.
Then—
---
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